, , , , , , , ,

File:Avebury henge and village UK.jpg

(Image: Wikityke at English Wikipaedia)

What else have you uncovered in your clear-out?  Don’t tell me…

some more ancient poems?

Funnily enough, Brassie, I did discover some ancient drafts.  I spruced this

one up and it reminded me that I must return for a visit, as it has been

about eighteen years since I was last at Avebury.



In spite of being erected on chalk;

in spite of Earth’s gravitational pull,

they’re still standing.  Though excoriated

by weather; mis-aligned by ancient ploughs;

their earthwork breached; bedrock, ditches, ravished,

yet, down the centuries, they have stood firm.


I’m still standing and not quite petrified.

I believed in the power of a ring;

hoped that we could build a sanctuary;

little sarsens would mark our history.

Our sacrament would be a mystery

crop circles could only approximate.


I had hoped that I was on the right lines.

Not being what is termed a pushover,

I now view myself as monolithic:

stoical monument to a lost cause.

My original purpose, once obscured,

might be discovered by divination.


Too much sacrifice hardened my stone heart.

I was between a rock and that dead place.

But now sheep find me useful for shelter.

Over the henge, shrilling skylarks still sing.

The sun rises on me every morning.

I’ve no visible support; yet I stand.